Introductions: Optimus Prime
by Botosphere
Summary: With the death of Optimus, the last descendant of the Ancient Primes, the Dynasty comes to an end. Sam Witwicky is a Prime of an entirely different kind, though, and Optimus learns that the boy can't fulfill his fate alone because it also involves his big, younger brother Prime. Set during RotF.
1. In the Well

Author's note: MASSIVE spoilers for Kinship and The Tie That Binds in this one. You'd probably understand this story okay without having read those, but it gives away quite a bit of what's covered in those two stories. You've been given fair warning. :) Hope you enjoy!

* * *

I frantically called for Sam. He was here somewhere in this forest, hiding from Megatron and the others while I battled them.

Behind me, Megatron growled. "You're so weak!"

"NO!"

My spark exploded in pain and I was falling, falling with one last thought flickering through failing processors. "Sam, run."

Vaguely I knew my frame hit something. The Earth. My home. Dizzily, I slipped away from 'home.' I spun wildly into space, weightless as a cometary form. But that form had never felt like this, disoriented and terrifyingly adrift.

Gentle arms caught me, drawing me into an embrace. _Her _embrace. I was home. I was whole. She swelled around me, drawing me into the pull of a blessedly-familiar gravity, and I surrendered to her spark before I could even think her name.

She rose up to meet me with delight and eagerness, greeting me as her profound half as she invited me in.

I lost myself in her layers of kindness and strength, wrapping myself up in her comforting affection so sweet it made my very being ache for joy. I sank deeper into her devotion, reaching to her core to take hold of the valiant half of my spark.

A new Self kindled in our merging, a synergy of sparks I'd despaired of ever experiencing again. Valiant and profound became so much more – enduring strength and timeless wisdom. The Self rode a crescendo of energies, hovering in an eternal sliver of time before brilliant warmth sang through us, washing clean the grime and pain of death.

…

My systems hummed to life, purring like a cybercat. A moment of fleeting anxiety made me reach for my mate across our bond, but I relaxed back into sated ease when I sensed her, my valiant half, curled up against my frame.

Elita.

We were cuddled on the wide berth of our second home, the first being a cramped set of rooms with ceilings so low I had to duck to pass through the door. It was the best we could get on short notice after bonding. These quarters were much better, and we spent many happy cycles here.

Elita felt my mental touch, of course, and whispered, "You're online."

"No thanks to you," I playfully rumbled, reaching for her physically this time to pull her up onto my chassis. "I had the oddest...dream, I suppose. Though..." I trailed off, trying to make sense of the dark, strange images that flitted through my processors. Except my processors weren't quite...there.

"It wasn't a dream," she murmured, warm sympathy pouring from her spark into our bond. Sensing my confusion, she added, "We wore these frames for a long time, and old habits of the mind and spark die hard. Like you."

The memories – spark memories, I now recognized – became clearer, and I also recalled the pain I'd felt knowing she'd been extinguished. "We are dead, then."

"We are in the Well of All Sparks," she corrected, amusement drifting from her spark. "Does it feel like death to you?"

I clung to that amusement, that sense of her after the seemingly endless separation, and caressed her helm, cradling it to my chassis. "It's not what I expected, no." A sudden thought occurred to me, sending guilt racing across our bond. "I was not here to...ease the transition for you."

"Corona is here," she languidly said, tracing idle patterns on my frame. "Her bond anchored me. Moonracer and Beta Five and Alpha Trion are also here. I've had a chance to really know Sunset and Fortron, too. It's not the same, of course, but I have been surrounded by kin and friends this entire time." She lifted her helm, smiling with a sparkle in her optics. "Speaking of friends, Jazz is being utterly impossible. Even your brothers don't know what to do with him. You'll have to work some time for him into your schedule."

"Schedule? I didn't realize there would be an agenda."

"Only for you, spark of mine."

And then her other comment registered. "My former brother is still alive. Or rather, is alive again."

"He did not trouble us here," she assured me, sensing my worry. "He had repudiated every bond that could anchor him. I meant your brother Primes. We have much to tell you, Optimus, and of all the sparks ever ignited, you're the only one who has to hurry to learn it all."

"I do not understand."

Heavy-sparked, she admitted, "I know." Instantly we were standing in front of the Temple at Simfur. Six primeval beings were assembled behind Elita in a semicircle, and I recognized them as femmes by the castings that they wore. Each silver disk, including Elita's, was inscribed with the same glyph as the one on my helm.

"You must part with her here for a while," the largest of the ancient femmes said. "This test is for you alone. "

"Test?"

Behind me the doors to the Temple opened and I turned to see another ancient being in the doorway, this time a mech. I recognized him from his many depictions in art and shuttered my optics in an astounded blink. Alpha Prime.

"Well met, Optimus. I am your kin and, if you will have me, your clan leader."

Stunned for a moment, I finally said, "I will gladly follow you, if you will have me. I am called Prime as a title rather than as a clan name. I accepted it as a sign of honor from those who followed me. I meant no disrespect or presumption."

The ancient Prime nodded in grave acceptance. "You are kin in more than name only. Whether you deserve the title of Prime is the purpose of our test. If you enter here, you will bring upon yourself grief and responsibilities that you cannot now imagine. You will also bring upon yourself and many others great joy and hope. It is your choice."

Warily, I asked, "Who would they be?"

"All those who have already had joy and hope in you in life."

I glanced back at Elita and felt her bittersweet encouragement.

"If you remain here with her," the ancient femme said, "you will set aside the responsibilities and name of Prime forever."

I couldn't deny the thought was tempting, but I reached out for my mate, knowing this choice was not mine alone. "Elita?"

Across our bond, she enveloped me in her solemn affection. She knew as surely as I did how tempted I was, as well as how I would deeply regret taking the easier path. "You have always been a Prime to me. Prove it to yourself."

Taking hold of her affection and confidence, I turned and nodded to the Ancient Prime, and Alpha gestured me forward through the darkened doorway. As I crossed the threshold, I lost all sense of Elita; I was alone in my spark again. I glanced back, but the door was already shut behind me. She seemed to know more than me about this test, though, and I trusted her. My choice was made, and I would see it through.


	2. In the Temple

Author's note: Sorry about the delay. My muse decided to hibernate for a week or so, but chapters should go up much more quickly now that she's cooperating again. :) This chapter makes reference to our fics _Destroyer of Worlds_, _Precursors: Foxhole Friends_ and _The Price_. You should understand the chapter just fine without having read those stories, but if you want to read more, you know where to look now. :)

* * *

Inside, five other mechs stood in a semicircle as though they were waiting for me. They began spreading out, surrounding me, and I turned to anxiously look at the Prime again.

"I am Alpha Prime" he declared, "the eldest of our race and protector of the All Spark and of Cybertron." Resting a servo on my shoulder, he bowed his helm to touch mine as a kinsmech would.

Abruptly I was sprawled out on the forest floor, the pain in my chassis a foreshadow of what was to come. Sam cowered behind a fallen tree only a few yards away while Megatron closed in. "Isn't the survival of our race worth a single human life?"

It was a taunt, a "what if" intended to fester in my spark if I did prevail against them. I'd long since hardened myself against such wounds and the words did not strike home. I'd destroyed the Cube to stop Megatron – he and I both knew where I stood. We both knew where he stood, as well. "You'll never stop at one."

A ferocity filled me like I'd never experienced before. My spark somehow knew my hour had come; I was fighting to the death. It was freeing to finally be nothing but a warrior with no obligation to survive and inspire. My only obligation was to Sam, to kill those who would harm him. Kill I did, and I maimed Starscream. Megatron prevailed though, and I was falling, falling again, slipping away from my home in exile.

Abruptly we were on Cybertron again, Alpha stepping away from me.

"Was he extinguished?" I suddenly wondered. My death and afterlife had been so disorienting that I hadn't even thought about Sam until now, but anxiety gripped me. "Did Megatron kill him?"

"No. Your sacrifice was sufficient to protect him, and your Autobots have brought him to safety."

My shoulders slumped in relief, but it was short-lived. "What will happen to them?" I'd all but abandoned them, though I knew in my spark that I couldn't have done differently.

"Your fate and the fate of both our race and his are now in Samuel's hands. He carries within him the All Spark."

Guilt burned through me, and I hung my helm, unable to face the mech who, I now realized, could never be my clan leader. He would condemn me as he should, and he was likely the mech who would finally punish me for my unforgivable sin in Mission City. He, the first Prime and Lord Protector of Cybertron, would be more than in his rights to do so. "I destroyed the All Spark."

"No," Alpha answered, his gentle tone a contrast to the firm servo on my shoulder. He paused until I looked up to meet his gaze. "_Samuel _destroyed the Cube, as was both its fate and his. The All Spark, as all energy, cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed. The boy proved himself worthy to be its living vessel when he was willing to die to defend it, and you laid down your life for him and the All Spark he carries. Like me, you fought to protect the All Spark and for the survival of our race. Well done, brother."

As he spoke the words, a kin-bond warmed to life in my spark. It arose from the scar left by the severing of Megatron's bond, as stunning as Alpha's words: _Well done_.

Alpha stepped aside and another mech took his place. "I am Stromancer Prime." My surprise must have shown – he shared the same name as my father's father – and he gave a small, grave nod. "Knowledge was the dominion given me by the All Spark. I am the one who developed the written language of the Primes and incorporated our clan-glyph into the build of all our descendants." Rather than rest his servo on my shoulder, he placed it on my helm, touching the same glyph my father and his father wore. _The glyph of the Prime clan_. The sudden realization was shocking: I was a Prime.

Abruptly we were on Cybertron in my memories of the earliest days of the War. We hadn't even constructed a base yet and were hiding in caverns in a remote region outside Thetacon. Corona, a ruby-red and gold femme, was laid out on the floor of the cave almost as if she were deep in recharge.

She was at peace in death as she never had been in life. Elita and Beta Five had created her less than an orbital cycle ago, but she'd felt compelled to seek out Megatron even though we'd none of us told her of him. Once she knew the truth about me and my former brother, she'd been in constant, spark-wrenching turmoil. Her love for her sisters was powerful, but her processors kept telling her they were enemies and traitors. Three solar cycles ago, she'd run away deeper into the caves and when Elita and Beta tried to find her over their bonds, Corona severed them. When we finally found the youngling, she was extinguished. As near as we could tell, she'd disabled the containment field on her spark chamber and let her energies simply bleed out.

Elita's grief was raw in my spark though her frame was in a protective, medically-induced stasis, but it was Ratchet's autopsy report that shook me. "It was not a flaw in her design that corrupted Corona's processing. It was the code she was created with."

"That code is from the All Spark itself," I interrupted.

"I know." He looked down at her empty shell. "I don't understand it either, but based on my review of her memory files, it was with her from the moment she was sparked."

"It was irreversible."

"Yes." He shook his helm in defeat. "I wish it had been a design flaw - that at least would have made some kind of sense."

His words cut through the grief and pain, and the answers to many questions fell into place in my processors. A sister created by my own mate and a femme of the Beta dynasty was programmed by the All Spark to be loyal to Megatron. It could not be mere chance, even if we could not make sense of it now. There was purpose and design in Corona's glitch, just as there was in that unique code we each received from the All Spark. For the first time in recorded history, the Cube had chosen sides in the conflicts of its creations, and it had apparently chosen Megatron. However, the glitch was not what compelled Corona to suicide; that came of the conflict between her spark's loyalty to her sisters and her programming's commands. Both spark and code came from the All Spark. It had not granted life; it had created madness.

Her fate had been to serve Megatron or die, and it went against everything I knew, understood, or believed about Primus to accept that he would coerce his creations, even if I were in the wrong. Some had called the Cube the avatar of Primus, while others had called it an instrument of his will. Regardless, something had gone seriously wrong if the Cube was deviating from the teachings of our Creator. Either it was meddling in our squabbles...or someone had meddled with it. The knowledge settled grim and cold in my spark, and though I had no evidence, I knew my latter conclusion was the correct one.

"Optimus?" Ratchet demanded, no doubt reading my expression. "What's wrong?"

"Many things, none of which I expect you to right." I turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" he demanded behind me.

"To speak with the leader of the temple guardians."

Stromancer's servo lifted off my helm, and I was again in the echoing Temple with the Dynasty of the Primes. "You knew with the instincts of my own lineage that the Cube had been corrupted. Well done, my heir and brother Prime."

Another kin-bond awoke within me and the warmth I felt from him over our bond saturated my overwhelmed spark.

Another mech took his place. "I am Paraclete Prime, and I was the one called upon as an intercessor between us and the All Spark when a youngling or sparkling was wanted."

Like Alpha, he placed a servo on my shoulder and rested his helm against mine. He took me back to a memory very near my last one. We were still in the caves, and I'd called every last one of my followers into the largest cavern. Alpha Tetron, Alpha Trion's heir, was among us then as well. He'd come to comfort Beta Five, his sister's daughter and one of Corona's creators. Like Elita, Beta was in stasis and her uncle stood in her stead here. Ratchet explained to everyone what he'd already told me about Corona, adding, "I will not create another protoform frame until I know what went wrong. I'm afraid our clan must remain severed from Alpha Trion's."

Tetron solemnly nodded his helm in agreement.

I stood as Ratchet sat down. "He is correct. We will remain severed from Alpha Trion. We will not ask Ratchet to make another protoform until we know how Corona's processing was corrupted. We will not permit any other mech or femme to bring a protoform before the Cube, either. Not until this wrong has been righted."

A murmur rippled through the assembled mechs and femmes. Only Prowl and Jazz remained silent; Prowl because I'd already spoken with him regarding this and Jazz because he was Jazz.

"But...Optimus," Starsheen stuttered, "you can't keep them out of the Sanctuary!"

"No," I agreed. "We must remove the Cube from the Temple itself."

The murmur became an uproar. I glanced at the temple guardians, who were sitting together, and tried to gauge their response. There were two ways to view my proposed course of action: we were stealing the Cube, or we were restoring it to the custody of its rightful guardians. Would they side with me and Prowl, or would they see us as thieves and blasphemers? Prowl didn't feel he could order them to go against their own conscience, and so we hadn't taken this to them first. Let them decide with everyone else.

Alpha Tetron's voice rose above the others'. "Megatron won't stand for that!"

"I will not stand for what was done to Corona," I answered, my voice booming through the suddenly-silent hall. "I _will _take a stand for her sake and for all those who would be sparked to a life of madness and death."

Trailbreaker spoke up. "It will confirm to everyone out there," he nodded toward the exit tunnels and the civilization beyond, "everything Megatron's been saying about you."

I squared my shoulders. "So be it."

He nodded in acceptance if not agreement.

"What about you, Prowl?" Cliffjumper demanded.

He rose to his pedes beside me. "I think that the temple guardians who served under me must let their own sparks guide them."

"Served?" Smokescreen echoed, taking note of the past-tense.

"I release you all from your duty to me. Like Optimus, I am convinced that the Cube is not safe in its current location, but I cannot ask you to take this course if you believe it would violate your most solemnly-sworn oaths."

"What are you going to _do_ with it, Optimus?" Arcee interrupted, her annoyance bleeding across our kin-bond. "Even if you pull off the impossible and haul the Cube all the way out here, then what? Do you think you'll actually be able to _fix _it? And that's assuming something is even wrong with it. You can't know that."

"I can't," I admitted.

"But it is the most logical explanation available with the limited knowledge we have," Prowl said. "Part of the purpose of removing the All Spark from the Temple is to study it. It is entirely possible that the problem is something that can be repaired or that the Cube might even repair itself."

"Besides," Cliffjumper added with a smirk to Arcee, "we're _temple guardians_. We know things. It'll be easier to sneak the Cube out of there than you might think."

"And the energon?" Ratchet angrily demanded. "Are we holding that for ransom too?"

"Not for ransom," Prowl corrected. "For safekeeping. The Lord Protector has the responsibility to protect the Cube, and he delegated that responsibility to me. He has not formally rescinded that authority. It's not the most solid legal ground to stand on," he admitted, "but the evidence that the Cube has somehow been damaged is compelling. It is not safe in its present location. However, we will not hoard the energon, if it can be determined that it is not also contaminated. We will continue to function as temple guardians, and that means giving freely to all who ask. We will only prevent the use of the Cube to create until we are certain it is safe to do so."

"Do you realize what you're saying?" Moonracer asked. "Think about it. If whatever caused Corona's glitch can't be repaired, you'll never let anyone create another sibling or sparkling ever again."

"So be it," I repeated, more grimly this time. The silence stretched long in the shadow of those words, and the full scope of my intentions slowly sank into their processors and sparks. I was potentially condemning our entire race.

"It won't come ta that," Jazz suddenly said, stirring from where he'd been sitting motionless all this time. "Ain't nothing stopped the All Spark yet. But if ya want my two credits, it's more important for the Cube ta be with its guardians than for it ta be sittin' around in the Temple with no one ta really protect it. The consequences won't be pretty, but if Optimus is right, there are rough times ahead no matter what we choose here today."

"It is not a choice that must be made immediately," I added, in case anyone felt pressured by Jazz's words. "I simply wanted everyone to know my intentions."

"I stand with Optimus," Bumblebee announced, surprising me. He hadn't declared his allegiance to me yet, only to Prowl. "The Cube belongs with a Prime."

"I am just a mech like you," I reminded him.

"If you truly believe that, sister's mate," Chromia said, "then you are an idiot."

Paraclete brought us back out of my memories and his servo fell from my shoulder, though the irony of Chromia's words lingered in my spark. Paraclete said, "You obeyed the will of the master all Primes serve, though you did not know it at the time. As you feared, the Cube was corrupted and you were right to prevent its use to create new sparks. Well done, brother."

His words stirred in my spark as another brother-bond warmed to life. In the face of his approbation, I felt compelled to admit, "Stealing it was what sparked the war."

"Yes and no," he answered. "Your conflict is but the latest in a war that began before our creation. Prove yourself worthy, and more knowledge will be given you."

I nodded, accepting his counsel, and focused on passing the test before me.

Another Prime took his place, one who was almost identical to Stromancer. "I am Augur Prime," he declared, "the first of the seers. I read the stars and the patterns the All Spark weaves into our lives." Like Alpha, Augur rested his servo on my shoulder as a kinsmech and touched his helm to mine.

Abruptly we were in a ruined factory – a huge one that, at the height of the War, had created warships for the Decepticons. Jazz's brother Jackpot had sabotaged the production equipment and the factory had been abandoned for vorns. The temple guardians had cleared it not long ago and it now housed the All Spark, if only for a few solar cycles. We had to move it frequently - the Decepticons were pressing us too closely.

I stood before the Cube and reached out, daring to rest a servo on it. My spark was heavy with the knowledge Prowl had shared at the latest briefing.

"I have a bad feelin' about it," a familiar voice said behind me. I turned to see Jazz, arms crossed and leaning against the scorched wall.

Wearily, I answered, "You shouldn't be here. Only the temple guardians are supposed to know the Cube's location."

He snorted mirthlessly and shrugged away from the wall. "I'm your head of intelligence. I wouldn't be much of one if I didn't know where the All Spark was. And ya dodged the question, boss-bot."

I turned away from him to look up at the Cube again. "You never asked one."

"Whatever you're plannin', I've got a bad feelin' about it," he repeated.

"You see another path then, one that you do feel good about."

"I never said that," he answered. "But whatever ya got in mind, it ain't gonna end well."

Hanging my helm, I quietly said, "I can see no course that will anymore, Jazz."

"What is it you're plannin'?"

"To launch the All Spark off world."

"Slag it," he grumbled. "When ya decide ta frag things up, ya don't do it by halves, do ya?"

"You heard Prowl last night," I answered. "Our losses at the Battle of Copper Forest were devastating. Unless something drastic is done, we will fall before the Decepticons within a dozen vorns. Most likely within two."

"Prowler's smart, I'll grant ya that, but he can't see the future."

"Then I repeat: do _you_see another path? One that you feel good about?" His sullen silence was all the answer I needed. "The Cube must not fall into Decepticon servos. It is not a risk we can afford to take."

"Energon production has fallen off as it is with the Cube being moved so much - we can't harvest energon unless it's sittin' still. And now you're gonna cut off the supply completely? Besides, Megatron's probably gonna intercept it. Have ya thought about that? We lost half our Seekers at Copper Forest. Ain't no way we can fly it past the 'cons."

I turned to face him and the madness I was contemplating, and my servo fell away from the All Spark. "We will not send an escort. We will send it directly into the Vortex Anomaly."

He rolled his helm back in disbelief. "The wormhole. You're gonna send the All Spark through the slaggin' wormhole. Ya know the other end ain't stable!"

"I am relying on that fact," I answered. "The All Spark will go to where it's fated to be - hopefully beyond the reach of Megatron forever."

Glaring at me, he said, "Ya know, I'm not against placing the odd wager or two, but these are high stakes and I don't like the odds. You're gambling with the whole future of Cybertron."

I turned again toward the Cube. "It is the future of Cybertron I am trying to save, Jazz. Despite our hopes, the mutation in the Cube's energy signature has not corrected itself, and even the temple guardians don't know enough about the Cube to repair it. Whatever caused the glitch that destroyed Corona, whatever has changed within the All Spark, is permanent. When I look to the future, I see hundreds of thousands – millions – of younglings sparked to a life of slavery to Megatron. If he wins control of the All Spark, he will raise up entire generations who are fated to serve him or die."

"And you're not giving them even that much of a choice. Ya really think it'd be better for them ta never have been born?"

Glancing down at him, I answered, "Corona thought so."

He defiantly crossed his arms at that.

I again looked at the Cube that created me. "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. That is what we fight for, and it would be to our lasting condemnation if we did not fight even more fiercely for our own creations to have that right. I can't see the end from the beginning, but I feel this is my only course now."

I rested a servo on his shoulder. "I am sorry, old friend."

He frowned, but it was a grim, thoughtful expression. "If it's our only choice, then do it. But I won't ever see the Cube on Cybertron again." Turning on his heel, he left me in the heavy darkness.

Augur brought me out of the memory. "You correctly foresaw both what would befall Cybertron if the Cube had remained there and the course that would lead to its fate."

"It was destroyed," I pointed out yet again, a small part of me hoping that they would realize the full guilt I bore.

"That _was _its fate," Augur assured me. "Primes are born, not made. Though your processors resisted, your spark knew your course to be true, and you followed your own fate with the intuition of a Prime. Well done, brother."

Yet again, a Prime exonerated me, and I felt his sincerity as another bond warmed to life in my spark.

Another mech stepped forward, taking Augur's place. "I am Seneschal Prime, steward of the All Spark and of the household of its creations. With my own servos, I built the Temple at Simfur." Like his brothers, he placed his servo on my shoulder and touched his helm to mine.

Abruptly we were in a hangar on Earth - the first place the US government concealed us after Mission City. The humans had observed me retrieving the All Spark shard from Megatron's smelted spark chamber and had asked me about it in front of my Autobots. I expected the mechs to mourn with me, to want to reverence this last reminder of all that had once been, but Ratchet was all but glowing with excitement. "It's still part of the All Spark, Optimus. Maybe we can't rebuild the whole of Cybertron, but we can still use it to rebuild all it can."

My spark cooled at his words. Did he not see? "Our long-held hopes are no more. We will not rebuild our home, my friends. We cannot return to Cybertron, and we _will _not cyberform this or any other planet."

"I'm not talking about planets," Ratchet answered, "I'm talking about frames. We can restore Jazz!"

I shuttered my optics in surprise, but it was quickly followed by confusion. "The Cube grants new life and sustains it. It has never revived an extinguished spark."

He huffed impatiently. "Has anyone ever tried? It heals, too."

"Sometimes."

"And maybe it will fix what we can't."

_What you couldn't_, I mentally corrected.

"It couldn't hurt to try," Bumblebee pointed out from the makeshift medbay berth where Ratchet was still repairing his legs.

"Yes, it could," I answered in growing alarm at their words. "There is a reason we have not used the Cube for millennia."

"We know Jazz!" Ratchet pressed. "We _know_his spark wasn't corrupted like Corona's! The code that accompanied his spark is most likely intact. The All Spark fragment would just be restoring, not creating. If there was ever a time it would be safe to use the Cube for this, it would be now!"

"He's got a point," Ironhide put in.

Misgiving filled me. It would be wrong to even attempt this – I knew it in my spark. Jazz had made his choice. His was a quick, honorable death. As much as I mourned his loss, it was beyond my rights to ask this of the All Spark.

"Just think about it," Ratchet urged, his optics too bright with eagerness.

I was acutely aware of the humans' eyes on us, and nodded in agreement.

Seneschal skipped forward in my memory to the moment Will Lennox gave us the news that the President wanted the Fragment in exchange for his permission to remain on Earth.

My Autobots' reaction cemented my decision. The humans had a saying that power tended to corrupt and that absolute power corrupted absolutely. I could think of no greater power than the ability to turn back death itself, and my severed brothers would rush heedlessly into grasping that power. As much as it grieved me, I saw that it was safer for the humans to have custody of the All Spark. Perhaps someday, after we had more time to thoroughly examine Jazz's memory files, after we had time to study the All Spark fragment for additional changes to the energy signature, perhaps then we could move forward. I refused to make this decision on an impulse, however.

Seneschal brought us out of my memories. "You recognized the danger inherent in such great power and surrendered the fragment in accordance with the will of the All Spark."

Again guilt and shame filled me. "It was stolen and put to evil purpose. We could have restored Jazz but instead the Decepticons used it to restore Megatron to life."

"The Cube was corrupted," Seneschal reminded me. "Had you used it on Jazz, he would have suffered the same fate as Corona. He would have been restored as a Decepticon."

A chill ran through me at the thought.

"The All Spark's frame was corrupted," Seneschal continued. "It was fate that every last physical remnant of that frame be destroyed. The All Spark itself continues, though. Samuel carries it within his organic frame, but it will not always be so. As we speak, the wheels of destiny still turn and he is finding the path that will give the All Spark a form that is incorruptible by design."

Incorruptible by design. I had heard that phrase before, always in reference to a single legendary artifact. "The Matrix of Leadership."

Seneschal gravely nodded. "If the boy is strong enough to pursue his fate, the All Spark will soon be housed in the Matrix of Leadership."

"But it was lost with the disappearance of the Primes."

"And it will be found in the revelation of the Primes," he answered, "for it will only respond to the touch of a Prime. Prove yourself worthy, and more knowledge will be given you."

I nodded, and Seneschal declared, "Well done, brother." Again a bond warmed to life within my spark.

The last remaining mech stepped forward. "I am Amicus Prime," he said, "the mouthpiece for the All Spark to foreign species and ambassador for our race. I oversaw the exploration and colonization of space, sharing command of the Seekers with the one who became The Fallen." Like his – our – brothers he rested one servo on my shoulder and touched his helm to mine.

He brought me to my memory of arriving on Earth, of the dark thought that took hold of my spark, of the temptation to destroy the Cube. With him I relived that struggle of processor and spark, of feeling my fate and knowing I could not follow it, until I finally realized that if I did not destroy the Cube the humans would be destroyed instead. For the humans, I would take this blasphemy on myself, for I would not let them pay for our mistakes.

Amicus brought us out of my memory, and the guilt and dismay of that choice lingered in my spark. But the Prime's optics were kind as he said, "It was the fate of the Cube that it be destroyed, but you did not take that responsibility upon yourself until it was to protect another. I, too, laid down my life to protect the humans, and you have shown yourself a Prime in this. Well done, brother."

His words regarding the humans surprised me, but before I could ask about them, I felt a brother bond warm to life in my spark, and Amicus' assurance and approval poured into me to join the confidence of the others. They had come full circle now and Alpha bowed his helm to me. "All have saluted you as brother, Optimus. You have passed the test. As promised, it is time for you to gain greater knowledge."


	3. Enraptured

Alpha Prime stepped back, breaking the circle of mechs who surrounded me, and turned to gesture down the hall through one of the Temple's transepts. At the far end, an energon fountain quietly burbled and, on the rim, a vessel was balanced waiting for someone to come and draw a draught.

The sight pained my spark, despite the comforting warmth of so many brother bonds. The real Temple of Simfur lay in ruins, destroyed in my final battle on Cybertron. Alpha Trion fell here in the Sanctuary itself, and the energon fountains that had once sustained the life of my entire race lay broken and dry.

"To obtain the knowledge you seek," Seneschal said, "You must go and drink from the fountain."

I looked to him in confusion. "There are no temple guardians to offer it to me, and not even they simply help themselves. The energon is a gift freely given, not something to be taken."

"I was alone and there was no one to offer it to me," Alpha pointed out, his confidence swelling in my own spark. "I was the first of our clan; you are the last. Like me, you can freely take for yourself."

"This is not the energon you are accustomed to, Optimus," Seneschal added. "It is the substance of the Well of All Sparks and contains the memories of Primus and all his creations."

Before that could truly sink in, Stomancer said, "You seek knowledge, but what you will need most is wisdom. Both must be bought with experience, and in that vessel you will experience the spark-memories of all the descendants of the Prime clan who have passed into the Well."

Overwhelmed, I vented a sigh. This was beyond anything I'd imagined when I'd crossed the threshold of the Temple. "Why would I need so much knowledge and wisdom?"

I felt Stromancer's sorrow over our bond. "You are a Prime with a role to fulfill for the All Spark, and you will not leave this Temple as the same mech who entered. Fulfilling your fate, giving hope to those you left behind, will cost you dearly."

Fierce amity swelled in my spark. "For them, I will pay any price."

Paraclete's concern filled me. "All that was once contained within the Cube will reside in the Matrix. The Matrix of Leadership will also become the Creation Matrix. To go forward you must be the Prime who holds life and death in balance. You will be the fulcrum, the balance point, the conduit for the power of the Matrix. You must be prepared before being exposed to the full weight and strength of such power. The price for you personally will be high."

"Can I fulfill my fate without paying it?" I asked.

"No," Augur admitted.

"Then there is no purpose in delay."

"So be it," Alpha agreed. "Go to the fountain and drink from the Well."

I walked the echoing hallway to the fountain. As I drew closer, I saw that this energon was bright with the color of a new spark, not the green-hued liquid I was accustomed to. What else would be different about it?

_The memories of Primus and all his creations_. Everything about it would be different.

When I was beside the fountain, my brother-bonds winked out and I jolted in surprise. I glanced back once toward where my brothers once stood, but they were gone and I was completely alone. I took comfort in the reassuring presence of the bonds, though. They were blocked, not severed. Their absence was unnerving, but I reminded myself that this was my fate, and I picked up the vessel. Holding it under the stream of energon flowing down the fountain, I filled it and lifted it once in salute to the Giver of this gift. "Until all are one." And then I drank.

Power rushed through me, scorching with the white-hot intensity of a bared spark, hot enough to temper all it touched. My optics flashed white and I passed beyond any sense of self.

Between stars, moving with purpose and direction. A red dwarf left behind, untouchable by my brother, the Destroyer, unless by great effort. He will follow and leave the star in peace with only a trail of the dark aether to wreak chaos in his wake. Millions of stars and he has not yet learned. I prevail, always, for I am a creator and even what he destroys will become a new creation. He can only unmake what he has himself made: nothing. He is thwarted again and angry. A new thought has taken him; destroy the creator and make creation cease. It will take many more stars for him to learn that it is not that simple, but perhaps he can be shown. New rules for a new game – I will hide and show him what his existence would be without me.

The sense of self slowly returned, and I was again Optimus standing alone in the silent Temple. My systems were running hot as though I'd been fighting or running, but I'd not been harmed by that first draught. It was too strong, the lingering flavor of it bitter, but I lifted the vessel again and drank without hesitation, eager to learn more.

Choosing a star, creating a world like so many before. This one will be different, not carbon and calcium but copper and iron. This one will be a shield and shelter, a safe place to hide while my brother learns. Even without my conscious will, creation will continue, and I make provision for it as I shape my armor. These elements closest to my spark will waken with sentience and power of their own and I want my offspring to know who I am. I want them to know I have not abandoned them but that I am ever-present within them. From the sphere of my shelter I make a Cube and place a portion of my own power in it, so that their lives will be my dreams. I carve in its surface all things I wish them to know, and then wrap myself up in this new skin.

Slowly I became Optimus again, and the few, chosen memories of my Creator settled into my own spark. Cybertron was much more than a planet; it was the recharge chamber of Primus himself. I stared unseeing into the vessel of energon in my servo, recalling Cybertron as it was now, memories of the scarred and barren landscape filling me with shame as intense as that white-hot energon slowly working through me. We had not only harmed ourselves – we had defiled our Maker. Heavy-sparked, I again lifted the vessel and drank.

I awake by the light of day, but it is not the sun I feel. I am within the shadow of a Cube. I am alone, but I know in my spark that I am only the first. I am Alpha Prime.

When I became Optimus again, the memories of his entire life swirled through my spark. I'd seen the creation of my – his – brother Primes, of his mate and her sisters, of the Beta Dynasty with their ability to transform, of their younger brothers and sisters. I knew the names of the six tribes of the Dynasty of the Primes. There were only six, for the seventh Prime chose no mate and had no lineage that continued. I'd seen the creation of the Seekers and the friendship that eventually grew between Alpha and Aerie, the Seeker of the Primes.

But I'd also seen the betrayal of the seventh Prime, the Hunter, and like the rest of the Prime clan, I refused to even speak his name. He deserved none. He was The Fallen, and I knew now what Amicus had meant when he said he had died for the inhabitants of Earth.

I looked at the cup in my servo with dismay. In this too-strong, white-hot energon were the memories of the entire Prime clan, and I'd only known Alpha Prime thus far. In my spark, I knew I'd live the life of all his brothers, including The Fallen. I understood now; this was the high price I must pay, walking that evil path as if it were my own. Thinking of those who were I'd left behind – of Bumblebee, Ironhide, Ratchet, Sam, Iron Will – I lifted the cup again. I didn't understand exactly how my trial would help them, but I was determined to do all I could for them.

As with Alpha, I experienced the creation and life of his brothers. Auger foresaw that only one of The Fallen's brother Primes could defeat him. Seneschal was the one who made the decision to take the Matrix of Leadership back from The Fallen when it became clear he was abusing the tremendous trust they had all placed in him as the Hunter Prime. Alpha was the one who planned and led the battle. It was Stromancer who recognized that their entire clan was endangered by The Fallen's treachery. Paraclete was the one who dispersed the mates of the Primes and their descendants with a strict command to conceal their identities. In the end, Amicus was the last to fall, and it was he who gave his own spark to seal the Matrix of Leadership within the Tomb of the Primes.

From my brother Primes' memories, I knew that the Hunter Prime had flown with the Seekers through the night of space, but while they had fled the breath of the Destroyer, he chose to pass through the dark aether, thinking it an act of courage. Unicron's energy signature was on The Fallen's spark.

Six times, I became one of the Dynasty of the Primes. The Fallen outlived his brothers and so his would be the next life I would experience. With dread I lifted the too-strong cup again.

I awake with the warmth of two bonds and Father calls me by his own name: Alpha. I am the first of his six sons and two daughters, but before I am of age, he and his brothers are taken from us. Mother hides us until she, too, is killed by those who destroyed my father. Like the rest of the Prime tribes, I change the names of my brothers and sisters and deliberately delete all their memories of our dead kin. Then I do the same for myself. We all live in ignorance, but I become leader of our new clan. And when I take a mate and have offspring of my own, I name my firstborn son Alpha after the legendary Alpha Prime, whom I have long admired. Despite my precautions, though, I am violently extinguished by a femme Seeker before my youngest son comes of age. My last thought is that she wears a symbol I do not recognize, but I feel like I should.

When I was Optimus again, I was surprised that I'd been spared enduring The Fallen's life. However, the life of Alpha Prime's heir had not been an easy one to experience, and the heaviness of his spark continued to weigh on mine. His memories were now mine and would continue in my spark; I reminded myself that was the entire purpose of this trial. I was buying thousands of lifetimes of knowledge and wisdom at a personal price. The loss of his parents was a terrible grief, and the loss of even their memory was a greater sorrow still. That gaping hole in his memories wore on his spark, as did his worry about what it might mean. And while he didn't recognize the insignia his assassin wore, I did: the Decepticon symbol. I understood now what Paraclete had meant when he said that the war between Megatron and me was just a continuation of a conflict that began before our creation. We were part of a struggle that began with our race itself.

Considering my brother Primes' multiple warnings that this would be a difficult trial for me, I doubted it was an act of mercy that spared me The Fallen's memories. Had he fallen so far that he was completely severed from the Dynasty of the Primes? Obviously Stromancer's intuition was accurate and the descendants of the Primes were actively hunted even after the Dynasty's death. But what about The Fallen?

I glanced again toward the foyer of the Temple, but my brother Primes had not returned to answer these new questions. Looking at the vessel in my servo, I realized that the knowledge I sought was probably still within this white-hot energon. It was still near-brimming and with sudden foreboding I realized that most of the sparks represented here met with violent deaths. This cup was full of the grief and pain of my entire clan, and I had taken it upon myself to finish it.

For my friends and severed kin, I would do this. For the sakes of those who had gone before, I would do this that their sacrifices might be remembered. Steeling my resolve, I lifted the vessel again.

One by one, I experienced the spark-memories of my clan, each in the order of their deaths. Some, like Paraclete's first grandson and Amicus' third son, were very brief lives that ended in spark-rending violence. A great many died in quick succession during the first recorded outbreak of the solenoid virus. I felt my spark sputter and extinguish thousands of times as mech after mech succumbed to the virus. It was then that I began to lose track of how many Primes had been extinguished. My processors could have enumerated them were I still alive, but my spark was overwhelmed. In that epidemic the tribes of both Augur and Amicus came to an end as the last of their descendants perished.

Once, as the epidemic was nearing its end, I was hunched over the edge of the fountain when I became Optimus again. My will was faltering, and the burning pain of so many rent sparks lingered in my own. Their accumulated memories and pains were becoming my own in a crushing weight of grief. Some of the spark-memories were good ones, but most – and the strongest – were full of horror and suffering. A quarter of the population of Cybertron died in that outbreak, but seeing it through the optics of the dead, I realized that the vast majority of that fourth were Primes. The virus had somehow been targeted to destroy my clan.

I contemplated the energon vessel with a flicker of genuine fear. It was still almost half-full. The nobler desires of helping my Autobots and honoring the dead were burning away to ash in the intensity of the too-strong energon. Anger mingled with the pain then, and I clung to it, to anything that would help me endure this trial. These were my kin and The Fallen, the Hunter Prime, had hunted them. Drawing on that fury, I lifted the vessel and drank again.

War broke out between us and the Quintessons, and the tribes of first Paraclete and then Seneschal were extinguished over the course of it. Even the tribes of Alpha and Stromancer were reduced to less than a dozen descendants each.

My grandfather was one of those unwitting heirs, and he allied himself with Alpha Trion's clan. They did not know they were Primes, but together they formed a tribe that spearheaded the final campaign against the Quintessons. When my grandfather's enemies in battle did not kill him, his enemies in a friend's guise did. After the war, he was mortally injured on a reconstruction site in an assassination designed to look like an accident. The lead Constructicon and foremech of the site would one day side with Megatron.

I was on my knees in the Temple, fans whirring against the pain, when I became myself again, and it was a long time before I could bring myself to drink more of that too-strong energon. I knew which mech most likely died next because I still grieved his loss. My father. He and my mother perished in the collapse of a commercial tower, but knowing the treachery behind my grandfather's death, I could no longer believe my parents' death was a mere accident. Gripping the vessel more tightly to stop the trembling in my servo, I drank another bitter draught.

When I was Optimus again, I was face-down on the Temple floor. My whole frame shuddered in grief, a pain more agonizing than anything I'd previously felt burning through my spark. Even the anger that had carried me this far was smelting to ash. Piercing sorrow pinned me to the ground, and I would never rise again.

I'd known my brother had fallen. I'd known darkness ruled in his spark. I knew he was capable of great evil, but I did not until this moment understand how truly depraved he was. With a pang of shattering grief, I remembered the horror of seeing Megatron punch his fist through my mother's chest to crush her spark in his servo. Even worse, I'd felt him tear me – my father – open and devour my spark. The knowledge was etched into my essence leaving a deeper scar than any other borrowed spark-memory. This was how my parents died, destroyed by their own creation.

I lifted my helm and saw that there was still more energon in the vessel. A tremor ran through my entire frame at the thought and I dropped my helm to the floor again. I couldn't finish it. I couldn't. Each swallow had brought more sorrow, more horror, more pain. The assassination of Alpha Trion and his entire clan were still in that too-strong cup. I would be witness to at least another twenty-two mechs being extinguished, kin whose sparks I had known. The knowledge that my choices had a servo in their destruction was terrible enough. To endure each mortal wound, to feel their betrayal, to sense the light of their optics fade away, it was too much. Far, far too much.

I was not a Prime. I could not finish this bitter cup. Whatever the All Spark had in store for me would not be realized. I was not strong enough. Not even despair and shame could distract from the crushing agony in my spark. It was too much.

A gentle servo touched mine and I forced myself to look up. It was a mechling, sitting on his heels and looking on me with a serious gaze. I did not recognize him, though without my processors, it was not much of a surprise. The surprise was that he was even here in the Temple with me. I had not seen a new-sparked youngling since the creation of Corona. Wordlessly, he gave me a little, sympathetic smile and placed his small servo on my shoulder, leaning forward to rest his helm against mine. As he did I noticed that he, too, wore the glyph of the Prime clan.

Abruptly we were in the caves again, before the war began in earnest, and Jazz rose to his pedes beside me. "It won't come to that. Ain't nothing stopped the All Spark yet."

I was again in the ruined factory with Jazz at my side and the doomed Cube before me. "It is the future of Cybertron I'm trying to save."

Then we were in the Temple again, my broken, scorching spark making me writhe. The mechling was still with me, and still he was silent, but when I lifted my helm he nodded encouragingly. Drawing strength from this youngling and what he had shown me, I nodded my helm in return. He quirked a little smile and then looked meaningfully at the energon vessel.

I followed his gaze, but when I looked back to him, he was gone. Whoever he was, he'd done what was needful, though. He reminded me why I was here, why I was suffering. I was not being unmade; I was being remade. And with me, the hope of Cybertron. My Creator could use even destruction to his purposes.

Drawing on all the strength left in my spark, I reached for the cup with a shaking servo and took another drink.

Alpha Tetron, Alpha Trion's heir, was the next to fall. Though brutal, it was the honest death of a warrior on the field of battle. It was easier to bear than my father's experience, though Alpha Tetron's memories added to the accumulated weight of our entire clan.

Swallow by scorching swallow, one by one, my kin fell in battle until at last Alpha Trion was impaled through the spark by debris in the Battle of Simfur.

When I became Optimus again, I saw that there was one last sip in the bottom of the vessel. One more lifetime of spark-memories remained. Only two descendants of the Primes survived beyond the Battle of Simfur: my once-brother and me, and I already carried my own memories.

Megatron.

This would be my final trial, and only the knowledge that it would truly be the last kept me from utter despair. I'd felt my father murdered; now I would be his murderer. The weight of my clan's memories seemed a light thing compared to what I would experience if I drank this last, most bitter draught.

I offlined my optics, searching my hollow spark for any shred of strength I might have left. Of myself, I had none. I reached beyond myself, though, to my friends, my severed kin, my mate, the mechling Prime and whatever hope he represented…in my spark, I fortified myself with them one by one and then lifted my helm to finish the cup.

When I became Optimus again, revulsion filled me for all that I'd done and been as Megatron. I thought I knew my former brother well, but before this moment I had only known a fraction of the evil that had taken hold of his spark. Those memories were now my memories, and I felt defiled by them.

The pain of his death was added to that of our entire clan, but my spark ached especially for him. He'd been born a Prime, but my brother was deceived by The Fallen himself and committed the moral crime that severed him from his birthright.

The burning, crushing weight of grief filled me and held me pinned, unable to even writhe, until a servo rested over mine again, and I again sensed my brothers near. With that touch, the pain was gone and I vented a sigh at the sudden relief. I lifted my helm and this time it was Alpha Prime before me.

"It is finished," he declared. "Well done, Optimus Prime."


	4. In the Heroes' Hall

Author's note: Here's an extra-quick chapter to make up for both the intensity of the last chapter and the frustration of FFnet being down over the weekend. Also, credit goes to IronRaven for helping me brainstorm and to RK-Styker-JK-5 for helping me with the characterization of a certain silver mech in this chapter.

Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed this fic or added it to your favorites and alerts. Your encouragement keeps me writing. :) Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_It is finished_. Alpha Prime's words resounded through my spark, relief and hope filling me. I cautiously rose to kneeling, and with each motion of cable and joint I felt the spark-white energon work its way through me, but now it healed and heartened as it went. This was no common energon, but it was still energon, the life-fluid of my Creator. I was saturated with it now, the power of my Maker. It was still bright and hot and tempered as it went, but it no longer consumed. The dross had finally burned away. The weight of so many memories remained, but I was growing stronger with each passing astrosecond.

"All that was broken in you is now being remade," Alpha Prime confirmed, and he offered me a servo to help me up.

Accepting it, I stood on my pedes again.

"When you cross the threshold of the Temple, you will be fully renewed," he continued. "Samuel has found the Matrix of Leadership. You don't have much time left in this dimension." His wistful affection slipped over our brother bond and he clapped his servo to my shoulder. "Use it wisely." And then he gestured toward the Temple doors.

I walked the long, transept hall wondering what Alpha might mean. My spark was overly full of memories now, but I knew nothing of the future. Where else might I go beyond this dimension? What was I rushing headlong toward and how did Sam and the Matrix of Leadership factor in? I was certain of one thing, though. Using my brief time wisely meant spending it with Elita. My spark was already reaching, searching for her as I approached the double doors to the outside. I pulled on one, making it swing inward, and then she was there, enveloping me, drawing me in again to that pure, raw, perfect Self. I had enough presence of mind to recognize that she wore the glyph of the Prime clan and wondered at it, but my valiant half brushed my thoughts aside. Her aching longing filled the Self as we once again slipped into something more lasting and real than even death.

…

We were reclined against a slope outdoors, laying on a soft turf of beryllium-copper filaments, when next I came to myself. My valiant half lay beside me, her hand over mine, and we were looking up at Cybertron's night sky. Her presence lingered in my spark now – her memories were mine like those of the rest of the Prime clan. But unlike theirs, Elita lifted my burdens rather than added to the weight.

I remembered Alpha Prime's words: _You will be fully renewed. _

"In death as we were in life," she softly murmured, easily following my train of thought over our bond. "We are stronger as one."

"We will be parted again," I realized, her memories becoming clearer now. "I will…"

"…return to them, yes," she finished for me when my spark stumbled over the knowledge. "According to Jazz, though your brother Primes have been singularly reticent on that point."

In her memories I saw exactly what she meant by Jazz being impossible, too. The Well of All Sparks had been a peaceful place, a restful one, where individuals, mates, and small clans dwelt in quiet contemplation. Until he arrived. I sat up and looked around, piecing it all together. Just like Elita had 'created' our old home from her memories for me, Jazz had created something that strived to be the best of what Cybertron once was. There in the distance reared Polyhex, and even from here, I could see it bustling with light and life. Treptifal with its forests rolled away to my right, while the Towers of Iacon gleamed in the starlight to my left. We were in a crystal garden of Praxus, but at the base of our hill was a structure that looked surprisingly alien in design, though it was made of Cybertronian materials. It reminded me of something from Earth...After a moment I placed it, a medieval European hall.

"Odd."

She chuckled and nudged me deeper into her memories, showing me some of Jazz's more recent antics. I understood from my time on Earth what he was doing and puzzled over it. "The wise jester. The mad, riddling seer."

Elita followed my thoughts to the human archetypes. "Is that his game?" she murmured in surprise. "To what end?"

"The only way to know is to confront him," I resolutely answered.

She vented a heavy sigh as I rose to my pedes, her wistful longing slowly dissolving into her sense of duty. "Yes, we must confront him. He made me promise I would not monopolize your time if you completed your trial in the Temple."

"If?" I playfully asked as I offered her a servo up.

"It was hypothetically possible for you to fail," she primly pointed out as she stood beside me. She rested her servo over my spark. "I knew my Prime, though. Now come, before I decide to break my promise and bring you back to our quarters again." She took my servo in hers and led me out of the crystal gardens toward Jazz's hall.

As we approached, I saw crowds of mechs and femmes surrounding the hall and filling the streets for several blocks in all directions. "Is it a holiday?" I wondered aloud. Music wafted through the night air toward us; the melody was a familiar Cybertonian one, but it was being played on what sounded suspiciously like a saxophone.

"It is _every _holiday," she corrected me. "Every good day that left an imprint on a spark. It's the price of admission. One good memory to share with the rest of us, every time. That's how we've been able to make this vision so large and long-lived. It's constantly fed."

At the bottom of the hill, we started working our way through the crowds. There were kegs of high-grade fuels, tables of energon goodies, a brightly-lit outdoor games tournament, and even hologram puppeteers. And everywhere, _everywhere_, there were sparklings and younglings. Or maybe it only seemed that way since it had been eons since I'd seen even one.

Elita perceived my surprise. "Those were the frames the young ones wore before death claimed them, and at least some of them kept the smaller builds here in the Well."

"I'd almost forgotten," I murmured as I watched a femme help her daughter choose an energon goodie.

I remembered a good day, then, one that made an impression on my spark. The day she first met Jazz he called her Elita One, and the thought of her creating a femmling daughter had been overwhelmingly beautiful – as long as I was the sparkling's father.

She glanced up at me, optics sparkling, as she saw that moment through my own memories. "Price of admission."

"Gladly paid," I rumbled in answer, my humor caressing hers.

With a wistful smile, she led me deeper into the crowd. We'd made it less than a full block before the growing quiet became noticeable. The cheerful cacophony stilled to whispers, and I heard my own name time and again, the words overlapping as they passed from mech to mech. Then my name began to precede us as we continued walking and the whispers became exclamations, over and over, of "Optimus Prime." The crowds started to make way for me, and the exclamations became shouts of joy and exultation.

When we were just a little more than a block away, the doors to Jazz's hall swung outward and the silver mech himself came running out. Seeing us, he dove into his alt form (his alt from Earth, I noted), and peeled out his tires in his race to us.

He rolled out of his alt and flipped to land on his pedes an arm's reach away from me. "Ya made it!" he crowed. "Now the party can _really _begin!"

Behind his shoulder, Alpha Trion gave us a long-suffering look and muttered, "Merciful Primus."

Elita chuckled and gestured at the crowds around us (who had gone mostly quiet trying to eavesdrop). "What do you call all this, then?"

"The welcomin' committee," he smirked back. To me, he said, "Heaven is what ya make of it, boss-bot! Ya really should have listened to your older brother more. I mean, yeah, the stakes were high, but ya interrupted the party. Ya could have shown a little respect for his sacrifice."

Puzzled, I said, "Jazz, I was created by my mother and father and am their firstborn. I don't have an older brother."

The smaller 'bot gave me a sly, sidelong smile. "Sure ya do...almost."

Elita's amusement nudged me over our bond. _See what I mean?_

I just stared at him. "That makes no sense."

"No, it doesn't," Alpha agreed, "but let it go. The more you press him, the more inane he gets. Trust me. I was tasked with keeping him out of trouble shortly after he arrived." Then he extended his arm in greeting. "It has been too long and yet not long enough, Optimus."

I clasped forearms with him and pulled him close to rest my helm against his as kin. As I did, his memories from my trial in the Temple welled up in me, and I honored and cherished him all the more for it. "Indeed."

"Ya got nothing for me?" Jazz interrupted. "After I went ta all the trouble of putting together this little birthday party for ya?"

"Birthday," I repeated.

"Let it go," Alpha again advised as he stepped back.

As if Jazz were also a kinsmech, I rested my servos on his shoulders and touched my forehelm to his. "I should have known you would turn the entire Well of All Sparks on its audial. It is good – beyond good – to see you, old friend."

"Not bad, not bad," he answered as I straightened. "In fairness to ya, though, ya ain't had much time to prepare a speech." Turning slightly, he nodded toward the Terran-looking hall. "Come on, time's a-wastin.'" To prove his point, he didn't wait to walk us up but dropped into his altform and raced back up the ramp. Dozens of mechs fell in behind him, streaming into the hall that seemed far too small to accommodate them all. I was surprised to realize I recognized many Wreckers among them.

A roar of cheering rose around us again, and we continued to the hall at a more dignified pace. As we walked inside, every mech and femme rose to their pedes and bowed their helms to us in respect. Tables lined either side of the hall and were laden with energon and delicacies of many kinds, and at the far end, a cross-table stood on a small dais. And there, at the head of this whole company, stood my mother and father. Forgetting dignity, I ran to them, pulling them both into an embrace. Elita joined us and joy bubbled from spark to spark across our newly-awoken bonds until it spilled out as laughter and we held each other tightly.

Mother was the first to step away, gesturing to Starsheen, and I looked around, realizing all my kin would be here. Beta Three, Alpha Tetron, Chiron, Polymer, Corona… I paused when I saw her, the first youngling I noticed in the hall. She bowed her helm to me, and I felt her nervousness over my kin bond with her. "Optimus."

"You severed your bonds," I said, wondering how she could be here when Megatron could not.

"I did it so my sisters wouldn't be killed when I died," she answered, and I could sense how much she wanted me to understand and to forgive her. "I never stopped cherishing them. I wanted to protect them from what I knew I would do if I was kept alive."

"She was the first in the War ta sacrifice herself for the sake of honor and kin," Jazz quietly explained.

I dropped to one knee so we were optic-to-optic. "Now, as then, I am pleased to claim you as the sister of my mate," I reassured her.

She ducked her helm in embarrassment but warm relief washed in from her spark. Beta Five rested an encouraging servo on her shoulder.

"She ain't the only surprise," Jazz added as I again rose to my pedes, pointing to a cluster of Seekers I recognized – Thunderwing, Contrail, Starfall, Skyblazer – all Decepticons. "Good will and a good memory are admission ta the party, and an honorable death gets ya a place at the table. Factions don't exist here."

In some ways, that knowledge was as disconcerting as anything my brother Primes had told me, and I looked at Jazz, dumbfounded.

"Thunderwing and Air Raid put on a good show for us, however," Alpha Trion commented. "They spar several times a day."

"Thunderwing killed him," I said in wonder, "and they spar here like old friends."

"Not 'xactly," Jazz answered with a cocky grin. "Sparring's allowed but not fighing. Took 'em a while ta get used ta that. Had ta kick 'em out a dozen times before they finally knew I meant business. They're a looong way off from friendship, but I'm trying my slaggin' best, boss-bot. Even here, even though _I'm_ the one running this show, things take time."

I rested a servo on his shoulder. "You have done more in the last two years to heal the wounds of this war than I have in the last two millennia. I wish all those we left behind could see this."

"Ya won't remember it well enough ta share it," he said. For an astrosecond he lapsed into something like sorrow, but then he gave me a sly half-smile. "Probably just as well. If every mech and femme alive knew about this place, they'd all self-destruct trying ta get here."

Elita explained to me, "Your memories from the Temple are engraved on your spark, but the ones you create here will not have the same power. You won't carry to your processors everything that you experience, but our words and affection will still leave impressions on your spark. We will be part of you, even if you do not remember."

In a quiet aside, Jazz counseled, "Don't try ta remember everyone who's here, Prime. Ya already got a spark that's full ta brimmin' with memories. Just pay attention ta who ain't here. Sunstreaker. Chromia. Prowl. Wheeljack. Perceptor. Hound an' Trailbreaker. Ultra Magnus." Looking up to me, he continued more grimly, "Shockwave. Dreadwing. Skyquake. Dirge an' his trine."

"Speaking of Decepticons and memories," Father interrupted, "Jazz tells us that you will face The Fallen."

This was news to me and I gave him a surprised look.

"Ya really gonna trust a madmech?" Jazz jauntily answered.

My father dismissively waved him away, but I felt his intense anger over our bond when he said to me, "I ask that you carry only one portion of my thoughts with you. If you face him, remember what was done to your mother."

Spark-white pain lanced through me, the piercing weight of an entire clan's memories, and I again watched Megatron crush her spark in his servo.

"I will remember," I fervently promised him.

"No!" my mother protested. "If you have the chance to kill him, then do it and don't bother with theatrics."

Ignoring her, my father commanded me, "Remember."

"He will," Elita promised. Her firm command flowed over our bond. _And forget what was done to me._

_I can't,_ I told her. _Arcee was witness and she shared the memory._

Elita vented a frustrated sigh. _I do not want you to avenge me. I want you to remember what our sparks shared here, not what I endured before the Well. Carry __**that**__ with you in your spark._

I would honor her wish, as well as the wishes of my parents. To my mother, I said, "I will remember and you will be avenged, theatrics or no."

"I want him put down like a rabid turbofox, not vengeance," she firmly told me.

"They are not mutually exclusive," Alpha Trion pointed out, trying to quell the disagreement between my parents.

Jazz grabbed my arm and tugged me away from them. "All right, all right, break it up all three 'a ya. Only good will here, yeah? Sparrin' but no fightin,' unless ya want me ta kick ya ta the curb."

Corona giggled, and while I was sure he wasn't serious about expelling them, everyone was grinning at the thought of Alpha Trion (not to mention my wise and gentle mother and Prime of a father) getting in trouble for brawling.

"I got something to show ya," Jazz continued as he led me toward the back of the hall. There were no windows on this fourth wall, but set in the center of it was a large set of double-doors. Together, they formed a square with a circle inlaid in the metal that was large enough to touch all four sides of the door frame. It was a simple symbol but I recognized its significance: the spherical All Spark housed within the Cube. Centered over the seam between the doors was an ancient, sacred glyph. The only place on Cybertron worthy of this symbol and glyph was the doors of the Sanctuary in the Temple of Simfur.

I gave him a questioning look and he shrugged. "It means creation - life - so it seemed right ta have it on these doors, too. Besides, I got special permission ta make this."

"Dare I ask from whom?"

"A little birdie told me," he answered with a grin. "Two of 'em, actually. Thought and Memory."

Something stirred in my memory, brought to mind by our surroundings. "Germanic tribes," I murmured, trying to follow that thread of recognition.

"Ya remember! I gotta tell ya, no matter what Ironhide says, the humans have some ideas worth borrowing."

"Like Valhalla," I realized, suddenly understanding what this place was modeled after. "How do you remember all this?" I demanded. "I had no idea you studied the past cultures of Earth so thoroughly."

"A mech like me is always lookin' ta the future, boss-bot," he answered with a flash of his visor that was his version of a wink. "An' you know me, always subspacing away useful bits and pieces of whatever's handy."

"Usually stolen from Wheeljack's lab," I pointed out with mock severity.

He shrugged with that incorrigible grin. "Ain't no fun if I got it legit, and ya know I gave it back after testin' it out a bit first."

"After you got caught," I corrected.

"Aaanyway, I had ta bring something with me ta keep from being bored here in the Well, and if there's one thing Earth ain't, that's boring. I gotta get back there someday, if I can swing it. One visit just ain't enough."

"Do you see yourself returning?" I asked. "Will I return?"

He smirked. "Two plus two by two gets ya eight hooves. Who would dare ta use such a steed, though?"

"Who would?" I indulged him, admittedly curious about what his riddle meant.

"A better mech than me," he grinned with another winking flash of his visor. "I'm not brave enough yet ta trust hands and feet."

It was obviously a reference to Earth and the humans, but I couldn't understand beyond that. He was hiding behind that persona again, the mad seer, and it brought to mind my purpose in coming here in the first place. "What are you playing at, old friend?" I quietly asked. "Why are you doing all this?"

"Me?"

"Yes. You." I turned my commander's glare on him, but that only made his grin wider.

"I could tell ya, but then I'd have ta give ya life."

I vented an exasperated sigh. "You are not a madmech, Jazz. Speak plainly to me."

"I just did. Your brothers made me promise not ta give away the big surprise. They're all a bunch of sticks-in-the-slag, ya know that? No sense of style at all."

That sounded more like the Jazz I knew and I smiled a little. "No," I agreed, "theirs is more of an epic sense. If you have spoken with them that much, then you know as well as I do that time is short."

"I know better'n ya do," he admitted, taking the hint. He looked down for a moment, going still in that way of his that was either a prophetic trance or excellent showmanship, or possibly a combination of both. But he retracted his visor as he looked up at me again, and his optics were shockingly serious for him. "It was the only way. The only thing I could do for ya, Optimus, and the only way ta make sure they let me talk ta ya. They woulda just sent ya on your way ta destiny with nothing but dead memories. I couldn't let 'em do that. So I built this." He gestured toward the hall and the street party beyond. "I did this so when ya had ta leave again, ya'd know we were okay. That _Elita _was okay. That's what I want ya ta carry in your spark for me, Prime, even if ya don't remember an astrosecond of what ya see here. We're okay. Happy, even. Drink in these memories ta ease the dead ones. There are worse things than being in the Well of All Sparks, especially when I'm around ta take care of your Autobots. We all lose our faction brands, but the oath I gave ya doesn't end with death."

I was speechless at his intensity, and then I felt chagrined that I hadn't seen this for what it was from the moment I heard that Jazz was behind it. "Thank you," I finally managed, inadequate though it was.

His visor snapped forward again and he gave me that incorrigible grin. "Believe me when I say, 'my pleasure,' boss-bot. But let's get ya back ta your valkyrie."

We joined Elita again, but before I could speak to her, the chatter around us ceased as Alpha Prime led his brothers into the hall. Even the Seekers bowed their helms to him in acknowledgment as he walked passed. When he reached me, he turned to the assembly. They watched him with expectant optics, but he simply said, "It is time."

Something like a sigh whispered through the hall and he turned to me. Gesturing toward the doors, he said, "Lead us," and his encouragement swelled in my own spark.

I was not a temple guardian, not worthy to touch those doors, but I _was_ a Prime and had drawn my own energon from the fountain in the Temple. Meeting the gaze of Alpha Prime, I realized the entire Dynasty had deemed me worthy, and who was I to question their judgment? Bowing my helm in respect to him, I did as he bid me.

I strode to the doors and pushed on them, but they were shut fast. I leaned on them, but still they held until I braced myself and brought all of my strength to bear. The feel of that tempering, white-hot energon flashed through me, and suddenly the doors swung back. It was blindingly bright on the other side, but before I could voice my uncertainty, I again felt Alpha Prime's encouragement. I glanced back, and every mech and femme in the hall stood frozen, watching me with rapt attention. Meeting my clan leader's gaze one last time, I nodded and crossed the threshold.


	5. In the Sand

Author's note: Here's a little love from me to you, my dear readers, on this Valentine's Day. :) Hope you enjoy!

* * *

When the light faded enough for me to see, I was surprised at our surroundings. The Dynasty and I stood at the mouth of the caves I and my kin fled to at the very beginning of the War, but unlike when we took refuge here, the main cavern was brightly illuminated, and the light was refracting and flickering across the stone walls.

"I don't understand," I said after a moment. "Why here?"

"Why did you come here in the first place?" Alpha Prime retorted.

"Jazz knew of it. The composition of the stone in this region masks spark signatures and so it was possible to hide from Megatron here."

"Do you not see?" Stromancer pressed.

"Patterns, Optimus," Augur encouraged. "The planet beneath your pedes is a macrocosm of your physical frame."

Stone that hid Cybertron's spark, like a spark chamber… "Primus."

Augur's approval washed over me. "You fled to the place closest to the spark of the Hidden One and hid with him when your brother turned against you."

"Patterns," I answered, filling the brother-bond with appreciation. My spark warmed as I looked at the walls that had sheltered us with new understanding and awe. The Temple at Simfur was considered a sacred space, but I now realized it was nothing compared to this place. "Had I known…"

"You would not have come," Augur finished for me matter-of-factly. "You and your Autobots would have been killed and Megatron's thirst for power would have remained unchecked until, as The Fallen's pawn, he caught the attention of the Chaos-Bringer. With the Cube corrupted and Primus blind in his slumber, he would have been taken by surprise by Unicron and maimed. Cybertron itself would have been physically broken apart as a planet."

I vented hard in surprise. Until this moment, I thought that Cybertron's current fate was the worst-case scenario. I wasn't sure if I should be comforted or not that it could have been worse, though that fate was still possible. "Isn't Primus still blind? The Cube was destroyed."

"When the All Spark is housed within the Matrix of Leadership, it will again be Primus' sensors, even from Earth."

"From Earth," I repeated, confused.

Alpha Prime stated, "You have not yet fulfilled your destiny, Optimus. The Matrix will return you to the realm of the living. The Fallen was loosed by your death, and it is your fate to face him."

It frustrated me that I had to admit, "I still do not understand."

Over my brother bond with him I felt his sly humor. "You are neither the first nor the last."

No doubt this was the surprise Jazz had mentioned. Ignoring his amusement, I continued, "Augur prophesied that only a Prime could defeat The Fallen. I was the last living Prime. And yet the Matrix of Leadership will only respond to a Prime. You say that the Matrix will return me to the realm of the living, but the entire clan has been long-dead. There is no living Prime to use the Matrix."

If Jazz were with us, he would have made a joke about their inability to get the punchline right.

Stromancer shook his head. "The Fallen still lives."

"That is why I didn't experience his memories in the Temple," I realized.

"And why you must return to the realm of the living to face him," Seneschal clarified.

Alpha continued, "You are the last of our descendants. You are the last of our Dynasty of the Primes. It falls to you to defeat him."

"He will restore me to life?" I doubtfully asked.

"No."

"Then…how?"

"We are only the first Dynasty, Optimus."

Meaning there would be another. Perhaps more than one. The knowledge was both a relief and a blow – a relief because it meant my race had a future and a blow because it meant many of the things I thought I knew about my brothers were not true. Even with all I had learned, I still didn't understand.

Perceiving my thoughts, Alpha gestured to his Ancient brothers and said, "We do not know our full destiny, and we have had these many long cycles to observe and ponder. Our Dynasty is dead but another Prime was born on Earth and with him the new Dynasty begins."

"Sam," I remembered.

Alpha bowed his head in a grave nod. "Through you, this new Dynasty of the Primes will learn of their brothers who went before, and you will teach them how to wield the All Spark."

"Wield it," I echoed, confused.

"It is great power," Alpha answered. "But that power is double-edged, like a dagger. It gives life, but it can also harm the one who wields it."

"It is power too great." I remembered again Ratchet's reaction to the All Spark shard.

"It will not be yours alone to wield," Stromancer said, resting a servo on my shoulder. "Samuel will assist you."

My last memory of him was seared into my spark, standing before me bruised and shocked and astroseconds from death himself. "Prime or not, I cannot ask that of him." I had asked for his help just hours before my death and he made it clear he wouldn't come to my assistance for even such a relatively small thing. He would undoubtedly balk at the heavy responsibilities of a Prime, and I would not blame him. I didn't want to place such a burden on his young shoulders.

"You are not the one who will ask," Amicus assured me. "He will offer, and he will protect you from abusing that power. Your fates are intertwined."

I wanted to protest, to deny that Sam could be a Prime, to believe that I could somehow stand alone in the stead of Alpha Prime and not fall like my spark-brother did. Looking at the mechs who surrounded me, though, I accepted their words. I was the lesser son of greater kin.

"He whose life is so short will have the task of using the Matrix to create new life," Paraclete explained. "You who endure will have the task of sustaining life by harvesting energon from the Matrix."

I opened my mouth to object that I was not worthy to wield the Matrix that way, but then I remembered drawing energon from the fountain with my own hand. Instead, I looked at Paraclete and said, "Patterns?"

He nodded. "You drank in that power, and it is part of you now. It will be able to flow through you into the realm of the living as energon. Once, that power freely radiated from the Cube, but as part of the Matrix, it can only be bought now." His fraternal pride swelled across our bond into my spark. "You have already paid that price."

Instantly we were in a different wilderness, one of crumbling Terran sandstone. I knew this place from my brothers' memories: the tomb they had made sacred with their sacrifice. When Amicus had sealed the tomb, the Matrix was resting in Alpha's servo, but it was empty now.

"It is gone," Alpha confirmed. "The Matrix and fate are both in Samuel's hands."

Stromancer gestured toward the west, and I saw an Egyptian pyramid rising from the plains in the distance, but overlaid with my modern knowledge was that of my ancestor. "The solar harvester." The stone had been torn apart, revealing the ancient device within.

"He means to turn it on," Amicus softly said, "to spite us. To spite the humans whom we chose over his – our own brother's – will. For energy. For power."

"He can't do that without the Matrix."

"He cannot," Alpha agreed. "It has taken a form that no unworthy being can wield, but it cannot stay in that form and still bring your fate to pass. Like you, Samuel must earn the right to wield it."

In the way of bond-visions, I was abruptly in the middle of a battle. All around me humans were fighting Decepticons, and I saw my friends among their organic allies. They were woefully outnumbered, and my spark burned with a fierce desire to stand with them.

"Where's Optimus?"

I turned at the sound of my name to see Sam, Mikaela, Iron Will and Epps pinned down against the questionable shelter of a ruined wall. Despite the fact that he'd turned away from me in the cemetery, despite the fact that I failed him with my death, here Sam was in the middle of a pitched battle – searching for _me_.

"He's right over there across the courtyard," Will answered, pointing.

I looked and had the odd sensation of seeing my lifeless frame sprawled out in the sand.

"I gotta to get to him right now," Sam said.

Will shook his head. "No, we've got an airstrike coming."

But Sam was insistent. "I have to get to him right now!"

Knowing my clan as I now did, it was easy to see the greatness in his strength of will and courage. He was again the boy of a Prime who extinguished Megatron.

Their argument was cut off by an approaching Decepticon. Helpless, I could only watch as the ancient Seeker – Aerie's son – entered the fray and was gutted by Scorponok. And then Sam and the others were running, sprinting across the sand, but I could see what they could not: Megatron closing in.

"Die," he growled and shot at Sam as the boy broke away from the others, running toward my empty shell. The force of the blast literally sent him head over heels.

NO! "SAM!" I shouted, but he couldn't hear me. Again, I could only watch as the medics fought for his life, as Mikaela grieved. He was extinguished. This couldn't be! The Second Dynasty and all the hope I hadn't known before – and now could not exist without – were resting on him. _My_ fate was resting on him. Surely the destiny of this human Prime wasn't to simply die!

"Wait," Alpha counseled, and then he and the rest of my brothers were gone.

Elita was suddenly beside me again, her servo clasping mine. I looked to her for answers, but she only whispered, "We are one spark and that will never change. Don't look back. Don't regret your choice. I won't, though I will miss you dearly." She reached up to lightly caress my face. "Hold fast to hope, dear spark."

Light rose from her, swelling to brilliance, and then I was on the field of battle again, though my brothers and Elita no longer stood with me. The human medics had given up on Sam, but I perceived what they could not, the pulse of his heart. Alive! Sam was alive! But that was only half my amazement. Flecks of the Matrix were literally part of his flesh and blood now, flitting like light through his veins. He was more than just a Prime; Sam was the Matrix-bearer as no Cybertronian could ever be.

The Matrix took form at his feet – the All Spark remade, part of Primus himself – and Sam stooped to pick it up. It flared to life in his hand, acknowledging him as a Prime, and my spark swelled with awe. Staggering to standing, he limped to my frame and raised the Matrix over the wound where my spark once burned.

Abruptly I was looking up instead of down – and I was in pain. But pain meant life, and life meant a human Prime to wield the Matrix, and a human Prime meant hope for my kind. The knowledge flowed in a torrent from my restored spark to my battered processors.

We had both crossed the threshold of death, but it was his hand that brought me back. His destiny, dictated by his choice, was to be _my_ savior. My processors remembered then the profound truth the Dynasty had taught me: all Primes are brothers. Rolling to my side, I looked on him – our hope literally made flesh – and sensed the truth of those words in a tentative bond Sam and I now shared. _Brother_. My spark swelled in stunned adoration. "Boy, you returned for _me_!"


End file.
